Page 55 of The Unweaver

He slid the watch back into his waistcoat pocket. “Anything strike you as odd about yesterday?”

“Other than the entire bloody day? Well, whoever attacked us, if they didn’t know what I was before, they do now.”

“They knew. But they underestimated you.”

Her shock gave way to consideration. “It’s not that they set a trap for a Necromancer in a cemetery,” she said, twirling the fork. “It’swhichcemetery. Dozens of graveyards around London, and they took Teddy to the oldest one. Full of centuries-old corpses not even I’d thought I could reanimate.”

Smelling something metallic, she glanced down. Unthinking, she had disintegrated the fork into flakes of rust. She brushed them off the table. “Er, sorry. Those nasty human bastards. How’d they even know what I am? I can count on one hand the mages who know.”

He considered her. “Why have you kept your Necromancy a secret? And spare me the bullshit.”

“The Covenant. Every mage keeps their affinities a secret.”

“Bullshit. It’s a secret from humans, not from each other.”

Her gaze dropped to her plate, appetite evaporating. “You wouldn’t understand.”

“Why? Because appearing out of thin air doesn’t scare the piss out of people too?”

She poured a hearty splash of brandy into her tea and sat back. “So. Now we just need to break the curse so I can reanimate Teddy. Where do we begin?”

“Does deflection normally work for you?” He scrutinized her averted features. “Let me get this straight. A priest dies while fuckin’ a nun andyou’rethe abomination?”

Her head jerked to him. Had he dredged up an entire arsenal of muck from her past? And if he knew about Father Hoyt, what else did he know? All the misfortunes going back to her death-soaked birth?

She remained silent.

He sighed. “I can’t pull your head out of your arse for you. Cora, you are your own greatest obstacle. This guilt over being born, it’s so…Catholic.”

His uncanny knowledge and gentle tone unnerved her. “Your candor, as always, is most appreciated,” she said. “Were you also raised Catholic?”

“More like had it beaten into me. Best cure for Catholicism is to be raised Catholic.”

“Amen.” She toasted with her teacup. “You’re from a Catholic part of Ireland, then?”

“You’re changing the subject again. Why do you hide your Necromancy?”

She shifted. “Safety.”

“Bullshit.”

“It’s not.” She wasn’t going to hand over her secrets to him like knives and show him where to stab. “Humans think I’m a murderer, and every mage who’s found out has tried to kill me. People underestimating me is the best protection.”

“More bullshit. You’re the Unweaver. Your reputation protects you more than hiding will. Anyone would be a fool to fuck with you. You can commune with myths. Reanimate the centuries-dead. You could do to a man what you just did to that fork.”

She raised a brow. “Care to test that?”

He stretched out his long legs and contemplated her. “You don’t scare me.”

“Even though I could rot your heart out?”

The corners of his mouth lifted. “You’d have to find it first.”

“Sold it on the black market, did you?”

“Don’t like answering personal questions, do you?”

“Is this breakfast or an interrogation?” Huffing a breath, she folded her hands on the table and sent him a challenging look. “Fine. What’s in the locked room?”

---